


Spill Not a Drop

by Saiya_tina



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [33]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: 1500+ words of fighting porn, M/M, Sort Of, i blame penbrydd for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saiya_tina/pseuds/Saiya_tina
Summary: Cullen's about to find out what Anton does in his Gaming House. Also, Anton proving why he's the best choice for Fight Club.





	Spill Not a Drop

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Cullen asked, sitting down in the chair Anton pulled out for him. He looked around and barely suppressed a wince at the loud shouting coming from the table next to them. He knew Anton ran a game house, but actually SEEING it was a completely different matter.

“Can’t a man bring his husband to work?” Anton asked, leaning forward to grin at him. “You bring me to work often enough.”

“No, you barge into my work, different matter.”

“Such cruelty, Knight-Commander,” Anton said with wide, wounded eyes that made Cullen almost feel guilty if it weren’t for the grin underneath. “And here I thought you looked forward to our lunches.”

“Well, lunch is…important,” Cullen said, wincing as more shouting broke out at one of the card game tables. “But seriously, why are we here? Or rather, why am I here?”

“Well, I’m here because I’ve been getting reports that some people have been cheating. And while I don’t really have a problem with that, but they’ve not been cheating well.” Anton looked personally offended by that. “You’re here because I like you and you’re nice to look at.”

“So I’m just here for you to stare at me?” Cullen said with possibly the driest expression Anton had ever seen on him. “How flattering.”

“Well, you should be, you’re a handsome man, husband.” Anton’s grin took on a more filthy edge. “And maybe once I find the culprits, we can make use of my office this time. You did enjoy the craftsmanship.”

“I could have enjoyed the craftsmanship at home too,” Cullen muttered but he obliging turned for the kiss when Anton offered it. It was just getting interesting too when Anton pulled away.

“I believe I’ve found our man, hold on, I’m going to get us some drinks and find out whether my hunch is right,” Anton murmured before going back for a quick peck and heading towards the bar.

Cullen kept an eye on him under the guise of scanning the room. One table was occupied by a group of men talking loudly, drinking mugs filled to the brim for what couldn’t be the first time. Another table had people rolling dice and cheering or booing. And then there was one table where the patrons were surprisingly quiet for the environment they were in. One man left the table for the bar and Anton ended up next to him, ordering two glasses of wine in a gratingly cheery voice before turning back to survey the crowd.

Cullen couldn’t understand what they were saying, but Anton’s countenance of cheery friendliness didn’t budge even as he accepted the wine glass and sipped from it during the conversation while the other man’s expression went from confusion to wariness before settling on a sort of fearful anger that had Cullen wondering whether he should be interfering. A tap on the shoulder had him turning away to look at a waitress who had a resigned look on her face.

“If you don’t want to get that plate bloody, you should leave, honey,” she said wryly. “When Lord Dog’s got that voice and face on, it usually ends in a fight.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, the sound of chairs scraping the floor came through loud enough to draw the attention of the other patrons as well. Cullen whipped around to see around six men leaving tables from various parts of the room to head towards the bar. The man Anton was talking to looked just angry now and Cullen had a feeling he should have heeded the waitress’s warning. Still, he couldn’t let his idiot husband die in a bar fight and started to get up from his seat. Or he would have had the waitress’s hand not pushed him back down.

“Just sit back and enjoy the show,” she said with a friendly pat right before pandemonium erupted.

The man made a move for the knife at his belt but wasn’t nearly fast enough. Anton grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm back and, still keeping a hold of his wine glass, shoved him at the three men coming up on his left. They went tumbling into one of the tables and before Cullen knew it, everyone was swinging at each other. The waitress had already ducked away to safety near the stairs and Cullen ducked a fist coming at his face, countering with one of his own that left the man’s nose bloody.

“I’m never going out with you again!” he hollered in Anton’s general direction.

“Come on, darling, don’t be like that,” Anton called back, still holding that damned wine glass and sipping from it before catching a charging man by his throat and using his foot to hook behind his ankles, slamming him down into the ground. He deposited the glass on the bar before rolling forward to gain some space, one forearm blocking a kick at his stomach as he kicked back at the offender’s ankle, causing it to buckle. He used the momentum to kick back an approaching brawler, knocking him ass over teakettle. “Isn’t it nice to fight without worrying for your life?”

“I’m pretty worried for my life right now!” Cullen hollered back, staggering as someone was stupid enough to punch his plate and was now howling over what was surely broken knuckles. Plate was good for protection, but fuck, was it difficult to move in.

“Nonsense, my dear. Nothing to fear when you’re with me.” Anton took a second to grin at him before ducking a wild swing, retorting with a punch to the man’s exposed stomach and chucking him towards another group. He heel-kicked another in the abdomen and then rolled over his bent back to kick another down. He fought his way over to Cullen and grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him over to the stairs where the waitresses were watching the fight.

“Stay here and I’ll be back for you later, my darling damsel,” Anton said, blowing him a kiss before wading back into the fray.

“Dar- I’m not your damsel!” Cullen called back and prepared to throw himself back into the fight if not for the same waitress from before.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the first punch-up he’s been in. Hell, it’s not the worst one he’s been in this month!” she laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lord Dog lose a fight.”

“This happens often, I take it?” Cullen asked, wincing as a man took a mug of beer to the face.

“Every now and then,” she shrugged. “Enough that Lord Dog has a plan in place for brawls. Anyone not taking part moves to the stairs and watches the show. And some of the workers help stop the fighting from spreading. Normally, people tire themselves out after ten minutes, but with him in there, I imagine this won’t last longer than five.”

“Is that right,” Cullen scanned the crowd and spotted Anton close to one of the corners, staring down three men, one of whom he had been talking to earlier. One charged forward and Anton side-stepped him with ease, punching him in the side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him down as he drove his knee up into his stomach, bringing him coughing to his knees. The next one was quick to follow, Anton ducking to let him overextend himself before tossing him to the ground with a shove of his shoulder and punching him square in the face to keep him there. The last man standing was more hesitant now and Anton waited for him to attack before shrugging and walking back towards the bar.

“Wha- is he just leaving him there?!” Cullen said, horrified as Anton hopped over a pair squabbling on the floor and ducked a thrown chair to vault over the bar and scrounge under it.

“You don’t attack him, he doesn’t send you home in a wheelbarrow,” the waitress said, grinning as Anton helped himself to a bottle of wine and another glass, picking up his own from the bar. “Simple rule, but drunkards and cheats don’t have room for rules.”

“Apparently not,” Cullen said faintly as his husband made him way to him cheerily. The last man seemed to be over his fear now and was shoving his way towards Anton, steel glinting in his fist. A warning wouldn’t be heard over the fighting in the crowd but that didn’t stop Cullen from shouting one out as he knocked over a couple of brawlers in an attempt to get to Anton before the assailant did.

Anton didn’t drop his smile or the wine as he turned back just enough to kick the man in the groin, dropping him to his knees, knife clattering to the ground. Cullen didn’t even have time for a breath of relief before Anton spun on that foot and roundhouse kicked the man in the head, knocking him into a heap on the floor.

“Maybe that’ll teach him not to cheat in my game house again,” Anton said, mincing back over to Cullen and handing him the empty glass. “Now then, this’ll go on for a few more minutes, so shall we get back to my office and take care of that….not-so-little problem of yours?”

Cullen blamed the exertion for the redness of his ears and neck and the stiffness in his pants, staring at the half full glass in Anton’s hand. “Is it always so eventful here?”

“You know me, darling,” Anton said, fixing him with a coy look over the rim of his glass, eyelash batting and all. “Life’s always exciting when I’m around.”

**Author's Note:**

> A result of Discord and Penbrydd. Blame him for everything.


End file.
